


Walk With The Noise

by actualcoolcat



Series: Recovery comes with Relapses [5]
Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Coping, Gen, Healing, Post-Canon, Self-Acceptance, remember to take care of yourself, self-care can be symbolic, talking with yourself but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26346376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualcoolcat/pseuds/actualcoolcat
Summary: I walk with the noiseIt's reaching out of meI talk to the wallsFace my devilsTim takes an important step forward
Series: Recovery comes with Relapses [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1751296
Kudos: 7





	Walk With The Noise

There’s a whole life that feels locked behind doors, buried deep and repressed. Tim doesn’t know if he wants to remember his forgotten memories, whether it’s for his own benefit that they’re wiped clear from his mind. Yet, it still nagged at him. To know there were years of his life just lost, distorted, whether by sedation or by… It. The fear of waking up and not knowing where he was or why he was injured. His paranoia and uncertainty through it all; it never went away even after he had seen the tapes. Tim knew there was still so much that he had to have done that wasn’t caught on camera, and that knowledge of knowing he did something but _didn’t_ do something… It still made him uncomfortable to think about.

He doesn’t believe there was anything nefarious that he did. Well, other than kidnapping, and some aggressive behavior. But he wonders if that was really him, or if it was the influences he was under. Tim knows that It had an effect on Jay, Alex, Brian, and himself, twisting them to behave in abnormal and aggressive ways. It’s not entirely his fault or any of their faults for being manipulated like puppets on a string into feeding and fueling a literal monster. Especially not for him when his medicine was stolen. Even the kidnapping could have been explained as trying to help, just in the most… intense sense of the word.

But Tim still wonders. About himself, about his memories, about his other half… How much was him and how much was _It_? What did his masked persona believe, and why did he do what he did? It was rough when you had all the answers to the questions, but were unable to access them.

Tim tries to believe that it’s for the best he can’t remember everything. Maybe in time, as he made more peace with himself, it would come back to him. Maybe those memories weren’t something that he needed to find acceptance in to move on. If he (his other half) wanted to shoulder the burden of them himself, well… that’s the definition of repressed memories, right? He’ll just add one more mental condition to the long list of records.

This was a step he knew he needed to take in order to move on with his life, move on with his own little definition of recovery. Acceptance was the hardest part and he kept finding himself stumbling. He didn’t want to accept the past, didn’t want to accept his mistakes, didn’t want to accept himself. But just as he had to force himself to accept reality, he knew he needed to take this step to truly be able to move forward. He needed to stop picking at his own wounds and let the scars heal over. It was tough as shit, it wasn’t pleasant. But he’d put this off long enough, and the memories of those he had left behind kept urging him forward.

He could do this. One foot ahead of the other, one step at a time. No more stumbling.

\---

Tim pulls himself into the bathroom, flipping on the light switch as it came to life with a dull hum. He stares himself down, the rundown appearance, unkept beard, dark shadows beneath his eyes. His face looks hollow and gaunt, something he doesn’t want to stare at, but he forces himself this time. Stares himself down, determination shining in his bloodshot eyes. Just as he has to accept the past, he has to accept himself.

_Not his fault. Not completely. Things are different. Cut yourself some slack._

Tim takes a deep breath, repeats the words through his head a few times. He grabs his razor and shaving cream.

_Might never remember everything he did, but it had to have a reason. Brian seemed to have still trusted him._

He wets his face, rubbing the shaving cream over his cheeks, massaging it gently into his skin before reaching for his razor.

_He was still him. Mask or not. He was still just trying to do whatever he could. He shouldn’t have to be afraid of himself. He doesn’t._

Tim brings the razor along his face, trimming at the mismatched patches of hair that was growing uneven. He trims up the length of his beard and sideburns, crops it neatly to his face, makes himself look a little less disheveled.

_How would he be able to accept anything else if he couldn’t accept himself?_

He pats down his face again with a towel, examining himself in the mirror. Tim lets out a slow sigh, stares himself down, swears for a moment that he could see his face morphing into a mask. He doesn’t pull his gaze away.

_It wasn’t himself that he had to fear._

Tim presses his hand against the mirror, watches his reflection mimic his actions.

He doesn’t know how much he has in common with himself, but this was still himself, wasn’t it? To protect Tim from the monster that ruined his life. To fight against the sensation of fear itself, to try to make any sense out of the senseless. It was a spiraling, winding set of decisions and viewpoints and actions. Self-preservation. Reach the end result with the least amount of interference. He can’t completely understand it, not yet. He feels like he could, with enough introspection, with an open enough mind. Actions are not without cause, right? Every decision had to have an intention behind them, and he refuses to believe he had anything other than the best—at the moment, for himself, with his limited understanding— intentions. He paved his own road to hell but it wasn’t too late to turn back.

Reaching his hand out like this, watching him own reflection mirror the action… It feels symbolic, and something stirs in him. He doesn’t seize up. His memories were still foggy and blocked off, but he accepts his other half. The instinct driven, other side to him that always felt hidden. It would still take time to truly feel like he was in-touch with himself and understood him, but Tim took this step in his healing process. Something that might be more beneficial and effective than simply trying to throw the past away.

He feels a sense of peace within himself that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

In that moment, the realization hit.

_He was going to be okay._

Tim finishes washing up and moves on.


End file.
